§ 2. Professions.

The army and navy being unknown to Iceland, the liberal professions are confined to three—Church, Law, and Physic.

The Church is a favourite profession, and we shall soon see the reason why. “Magnam, quæ in templa eorumque ministros ante viguerat,” says Bishop Pètursson, “munificentiam post Reformationem evanuisse et ex eo inde tempore conditionem sacerdotum Islandicorum miserrimam fuise constat.” The ecclesiastical division was formerly into two bishoprics—Skálholt, established in A.D. 1057; and Hólar, in A.D. 1107.[199] The dignitaries were originally under the jurisdiction of the Archbishop of Bremen-cum-Hamburg. In A.D. 1103-4 they became subject to Azerus (Aussur or Össur), first Archbishop of Lund; and, lastly, in A.D. 1152, they were made suffragans of the Bishop of Throndhjem. In A.D. 1797 the sees were united; a single bishop appointed by the Crown was stationed, as now, at Reykjavik; and the cathedral lacked, as it still lacks, a chapter. Since Norway was divided from Denmark, the chief dignitary was placed under the ecclesiastical jurisdiction of the Seeland Bishopric, but this authority is sometimes questioned. It was proposed by a pragmatical innovator of late years that the present bishop should be consecrated by the Archbishop of Canterbury, but the attempt failed before the indignation of the clergy and laity; it aimed, in fact, at yielding the question of apostolic succession. The machinator took refuge in England.

The clergy are also appointed by the bishop, subject to the confirmation of the Crown. They were divided into Hèraðsprófastr (Dan. Stiftprovest), or archdeacons (now obsolete); Prófastur (præpositus), provosts or deacons, ranking between rector and bishop; Prestar, rectors or curés; and Aðstoðarprestur, alias Kapellán, corresponding with our curates. There is no expression equivalent to “vicar,” and it must be coined for purposes of translating him of Wakefield.

In 1772 the island had 189 parishes (Presta-köll), namely, 127 under the see of Skálholt, and 62 under Hólar; in 1834 there were 194 livings or parochial churches; and in 1872 the number had fallen to 171. A yearly report, published at Copenhagen (Anglýsing um Endurskoðað brauðamat á Íslandi), gives a sufficiency of details. According to the last issue (1872), the island contained 171 ecclesiastics, or 1:456, a strong contrast with the 7000 priests at Rome; there were 301 churches and chapels (Annexja = Annexe) to 305 in 1818; consequently 130 were not filled, and service was confined to about once in three weeks.[200] The revenues, however, are appropriated to the incumbents of other livings.

There are twenty Profástdæmid (deaconries), viz.:

The smallest living is that of Sandfell í Öræfum = $111·89; the highest that of Hof í Vopnafirði = $1545·33: in Dillon’s day, “Breiðabólstaðr” was the most lucrative benefice. The bishop’s salary is now $3416; and the rector of Reykjavik draws $1524·77. Seven livings pass $1000 per annum; three, $900; six, $800; six, $700; eleven, $600; twenty-four, $500; twenty-seven, $400; thirty-three, $300 (below which sum pay is considered poor); thirty-nine, $200; and twelve, $100. Mr Vice-Consul Crowe (Report, 1865-66) makes the priest’s honorarium average about 300 rixdollars annually, or £34. When Henderson travelled (1818), the richest living, if he be correct, which is open to doubt, was of $200; many were of $36, and some of $5 per annum. Other old travellers speak of $33, and even $30. They justly term these incomes “miserably limited,” but they neglect to add rent-free manse and glebe-land, often some of the best in the county, besides various minor sources of gain. It became the fashion to pity the Icelandic clergy, who were compelled to be farmers, fishermen, and craftsmen after the fashion of St Dunstan. The latter in 1834 are represented to have been especially numerous; but as every man in Iceland is more or less a blacksmith and a carpenter, we may again suspect involuntary misrepresentation. This life of labour is still the case with the Maronites, whose Church is far from being a refugium, peccatorum. The “Prestr,” who had an industrious wife, and no taste for fine wines and tobacco, was better placed than his kinsman the Bóndi,[202] who had to pay, instead of receiving, tithes. And considering the relative value of money, we may doubt if he was ever so severely pressed by the wolf Poverty as many an English ecclesiastic, a scandal which is only now being removed.[203] In 1810 the bishop received, with the contributions of the school-fund, $1800 per annum; this £200 was fully equal in those days to £2000 in modern England. The author, when in Iceland, never saw a parson shoe a horse or take money for his hospitality.

The bishoprics of Skálholt and Hólar at first followed the ecclesiastical regulations drawn up by St Ólafr of Norway. In A.D. 1097 they adopted the tithe laws, which Sæmund the Wise had compiled, which were sanctioned by Bishop Gizur Isleifsson, and which were proclaimed by the President of the Icelandic Republic (Lögsögumaður), Markus Skeggjason. An order of the Althing (A.D. 1100-1275) divided this Tíund into four quarters, paid respectively to the bishop (Biskups-tíund), the priest (Prests-tíund), the church (repairs, etc., Kirkju-tíund), and the poor (Fátækra-tíund); and this division still obtains in the case of tithes from properties exceeding a certain value. After April 16, 1556, the bishop’s portion was appropriated by the sovereign under the name of “Crown tithes.” This form of tax is obsolete in Europe, but it can hardly be altered for the better in a sparsely populated country like Iceland, attached to the mos majorum, where the state of society differs little from that which originated the impost.[204]

In 1810, the Tíund of twelve head of fish, or an equivalent of 27 skillings, then = 1 shilling, was required from every person possessing more than five hundreds,[205] and it increased in uniform ratio with property. The subject of tithes has become a mass of intricacies, and only the outlines of the system can find room. The Tíund (Teind of the Shetlands) is now an impost of one per cent. on the value of all assessable property, viz., on land, boats, horses, cows, and sheep. The tithes of properties not exceeding five “hundreds,” or about $150, are applied undivided to supporting paupers; above that sum, they are quartered, as before mentioned.

Tithes may also be divided into two classes—the first, taken upon all the hundreds of immovable property, land, and houses; the second, levied after the fifth hundred, upon movable goods, money, horses, cattle, and fishing boats with their gear. Formerly every fisherman contributed one share of one day’s fishing to the hospitals; now he pays ½ ell, or 12 skillings, of every 120 heads of fish, and 1 ell, or 24 skillings, for every barrel of shark liver oil (Law 12, Feb. 1872). Church and Crown estates are exempt. Hospital lands, like the property of the governor, the bishop, the amtmenn, and the priests, pay only the “few-taking,” quarter-tithe or poor-tax.

The clergyman also adds to his temporalities by fees for baptisms, marriages, and burials. Each farmer is bound to feed an ecclesiastical mutton from mid-October to mid-May. This is a relic of Catholicism, when the “lamb of SS. Mary and Joseph” was intended as a feast, given by the priest to his parishioners after they had communicated. Now the latter graze the mutton, but do not eat it. The Prestr can also command a corvée of the poorer peasantry for at least one day to get in his hay-crop. And what distinguish his position in Iceland are the high proportion and the comparative value of Church property.

In 1695 the distribution of the 4059 farms upon the island was as follows:

Uno Von Troil (1772), quoting the Liber Villarium, or Land-book of 1695, thus distributes the Church property:

Here, out of a total of 4059, the sovereign, the clergy, and the poor whom they represented, monopolised a total of 2212. And in the present day the whole number of farms being 4357,[206] the clergy still hold the best properties. The total of 87,860 hundreds may now be divided as follows:

The proportion has declined from half to little more than a third, but it is still abnormal.

The power of landed property, combined with superior education and the facility of evicting tenantry, makes the Iceland parson a “squarson” of purest type, as the witty compounder of the word understood it. He inherits, moreover, not only the respect, but even the political power of the old pagan Goði. He commands elections as a rule,[207] and can return himself, as well as his friends, to the Althing. Indeed, nothing in Iceland struck the author more than the despotism of the Lutheran Church. It is like the state of Bavaria, where the priests manage the polling by threatening the well-known “Fire of Heaven.”

Nothing need be said of legal studies in Iceland, as the course is relegated to Copenhagen.

The island being divided into medical districts, gives a certain impulse to aspirants. The head physician, or surgeon-general (Land-physicus) of Iceland, who, after being passed by the Faculty of Copenhagen, lectures at Reykjavik, is Dr Jón Jónsson Hjáltalín: his publications are well known throughout Europe, and he will often be mentioned in the following pages. His salary is $1766 a year, and he supervises the eight, formerly seven, district Doctores Medicinæ. These at present are:

1. Dr Thorgrímr Ássmundsson Johnsen, stationed in the eastern part of the Southern Quarter.

2. Dr Thorsteinn Jónsson, in the Vestmannaeyjar, where his treatment has been most successful.

3. Dr Hjörtur Jónsson, in the southern part of the Western Quadrant.

4. Dr Thórvaldur Jónsson, in the northern part of do.

5. Dr Jósep Skaptason, in the Húnavatn and Skagafjörð Sýslas.

6. Dr Thórdur Tómásson, in the Eyjafjörð and Thíngey Sýslas.

7. Dr Fritz Zeuthen, in the eastern districts.

8. The Candid. Medic. Ólafr Stephánsson Thórarensen, in the north-east, Hofi and Eyjafjörð Sýslas.

These gentlemen must prescribe gratis, but they are allowed to sell drugs. Their salaries are about $900 per annum, and under the most favourable circumstances their incomes do not exceed $1000 to $1200. The only apothecary on the island is M. Randrŭp, a Dane, who is also Consul de France. He distributes medicines without taking fees, and draws an annual salary of $350.

The number of midwives[208] (Icel. Yfirsetu-konur, oversitting wives) is about a score. That devotion to homœopathy recorded by travellers in the early nineteenth century, appears to be going the way of all systems, after a short but not a wholly useless career.

SECTION VII.

ZOOLOGICAL NOTES (ANIMALS WILD AND TAME)—NOTES ON FLORA—AGRICULTURE AND CATTLE-BREEDING—FISHERIES AND FISHING—INDUSTRY AND EMIGRATION.

Iceland, which is an exaggeration of Scotland, whilst Greenland exaggerates Iceland, is supposed to number seven families and thirty-four species of mammals, but of these twenty-four are “water creatures.” Two quadrupeds have been considered indigenous, though evidently imported, the first is the mouse of many fables, the second is the fox. An old Iceland tradition asserts that Reynard was spitefully imported by a king of Norway, as magpies were sent to Ireland by the hated Saxon. Some are still floated over on the ice, but they seldom appear upon the east coast. A premium upon vulpecide dates from olden days, and increased demand for the robe has made the animals comparatively rare. Formerly they did immense damage amongst the newly-dropped lambs, and the farmers ignored the Scotch “dodge” of applying a streak of tar to the shoulder or to any part of the youngling. The people divide foxes into tame and wild: the latter grapple the sheep by their wool and never loose them till they fall exhausted.

Horrebow the Dane (Nat. Hist. of Ice.) mentions dark-red foxes, but Hooker neither saw nor heard of them. Kerguelen refers to red as well as to black,[209] blue, and white foxes. Uno Von Troil declares that some of the animals ate called “Gras tóur” (or grass-eating tod);[210] usually two varieties are recognised, C. lagopus (Mel-rakki) and C. fuliginosus; but the Isatis or white Arctic and the sooty-brown are probably the same animal at several seasons. Some assert the former to be white all the year round, but no hunter ever pretends to have found a white cub. The blue fox, which haunts certain places, very seldom comes to market, because the chief chasseur is dead. The white coat is cheap, the fine brown is rare and dear. Iceland, of course, abounds in folk-lore and Æsopian tales of Skolli (the skulker), as well as of mice, gulls, and ravens; the string of foxes hanging over the cliffs, and the contrivance of the vixen to escape from the hounds, show ingenuity in the inventor.[211]

The history of the imported reindeer (C. tarandus) is well known. In 1770 Hr Sörensen, a merchant, embarked thirteen head from Norway; of these ten died on the passage, and three fawned before 1772. They were never used for sledges: as the mule is the familiar of the Latin family, and the camel of the nearer East, so the reindeer can be developed only by the Lapps, Finns, and Tungusians. Moreover, the reindeer is fitted only for a snowy country; the skin and hair do not readily throw off water, and the animals suffer severely from wet—hence Iceland proved anything but the expected paradise. The average life of the Havier (stag) is said to be sixteen years. The young horns were eaten by the old Norwegians, and, when hard, they were cut into cramp-ring like those of the elk (Alce equicervus)—a curatio per contrarium. Some of these attires are grand as those of the Canadian Wapiti. There are now only two known herds upon the island, and details concerning them will be given in the Journal.

The Fjárhundr or shepherd-dog (C. Islandicus), according to Mackenzie, is of the Greenland breed; the “prick-eared cur” certainly resembles the Eskimo, sometimes with a dash of our collie. Formerly they were far more numerous than men; and old authors mention several breeds—“lubbar” or shag-dogs; dýr-hundar, deer or fox hounds, and dverg-hundar, dwarf hounds or lapdogs. Foreign animals are now rare; the common sort is a little “pariah,” not unlike the Pomeranian; stunted, short-backed, and sharp-snouted, with ruffed neck and bushy tail, or rather brush, curling and recurling. The colour is mostly brown-black, some are light-brown, deep-black, white, and piebald. Those brought to Reykjavik appear shy, savage, and snappish as foxes. Formerly they were trained to keep caravan-ponies on the path; now they guard the flocks, loiter about the farms, and keep cattle off the “tún.”[212] Good specimens easily fetch $6; a horse may be exchanged for the most valuable, those which, they say, can search a sheep under nine ells of snow. They are accused of propagating amongst their masters, hydatic disease and intestinal worms (Tænia echinococcus); and this consideration induced the Althing, in 1871, magno cum risu of the public, who asked why the cats were not assessed, to impose an annual dog-tax of $2 per head upon all exceeding a certain number on each farm—it will cause the premature death of many a promising pup. Half of the amount is the perquisite of the Hreppstjórar, the other moiety goes to the Treasury. The danger would be less if the dogs were not so often allowed to lick the platters clean, and to perform other and similar domestic duties.

Cats are common, especially in the capital, showing that defence is necessary against rats and mice. Herds of swine are alluded to in the island Sagas; and Iceland, like the Færoes, is full of such names as Svína-fell, Svína-dalr, and Svína-vatn. Not a single head is now seen except at Reykjavik, where a few are annually imported for immediate slaughtering. The peasants cannot afford to rear such expensive animals, which, moreover, damage the “tún.” A few goats are said to linger about the northern parts of the island; formerly they were common, but about 1770 they began to be proscribed for injuring the turf-roofs—where they can find no vines.

There are six families and some ninety species of birds, fifty-four of the latter being water-fowl. A valuable list of the air-fauna may be found in Appendix A. to Baring-Gould’s volume, “Notes on the Ornithology of Iceland,” by Alfred Newton, M.A. Almost every traveller has dipped into the subject, but Mr Newton has twice visited the island to study his specialty. His conclusion is thus stated: “The character of the avi-fauna of this country, as might have been expected from its geographical position, is essentially European, just as that of Greenland has American tendencies.” Of course many are emigrants from the south, and, treating of this subject, we should not forget the poetical, and apparently practical, theory of Runeberg the Skáld of modern Sweden. He makes the object light, not merely warmth: “The bird of passage is of noble birth; he bears a motto, and his motto is ‘Lux Mea Dux.’”

The most interesting of the game denizens is the ptarmigan (Tetrao lagopus). The people recognise only one species, but in these matters they are of no authority, and foreigners suspect the existence of two as in Norway. The small mountain-ptarmigan (Lagopus vulgaris) of the Continent is white in winter and grey speckled black at other times; its note is compared with the frog’s croak, the sheep’s cough, or the harsh cry of the missel-thrush. The Danish Skov or Dal-rype (wood or dale ptarmigan) is some seventeen inches long, white-plumed in winter, and during the rest of the year clad in warm yellow-brown, like the red grouse; the “cluck” can be heard a mile off. Metcalfe recognised in Iceland a modified cluck, while Faber and Yarrell believe the islander to be a new species. The cock is locally called Rjúpkarri, and the hen Rjúpa (Reb-huhn), evidently from the cry. It carries the young on the back, and is said to be stupid as the Touraco; this was not the author’s experience. Mackenzie appears to be in error when he makes the Scotch ptarmigan haunt the hills, and the Icelander prefer the lowlands. The bird enters largely into folk-lore: the fox of fable blinds it by throwing the snow in its eyes; and when the ger-falcon pierces its heart, he screams for sorrow to find that he has slain a sister.

Flocks of geese, also mentioned by the Sagas, are now found, like swans, only in the wild state; yet there is little apparent reason for the change. The raven will be treated of in another place; there are no crows except stragglers blown to sea by the southern gales. Poultry is still bred in small numbers about the farms, and, if the proportions were greater, they would be useful in clearing the ground of the injurious lumbrici. But the traveller observes that gallinaceous birds, originally natives of the tropics and of the lower temperates, though easily acclimated to the higher latitudes, will not thrive beyond the habitat of the civilised cereals. At any rate in Iceland their productiveness is limited.

It is generally known that there are no snakes in Iceland as in Ireland. Islands disconnected from continents by broad tracts of sea like Annobom and St Helena, notably lack venomous reptiles; the latter, however, have passed over the nineteen miles between Fernando Po and the Camarones mainland. Papilios and sphinxes, newts and lizards, frogs and toads, also shun the cold damp air. Mackenzie found a coccinella near the Geysir; and Madame Ida Pfeiffer secured two wild bees which she carried off in spirits of wine. The pests are gnats, midges, and fleas; the pediculus is well known, but the cimex, as in older England, has not yet become naturalised.

Mr J. Gwyn Jeffreys kindly obliged the author with the following note concerning a small collection forwarded to him.

Baring-Gould (p. 114) found “fossil fresh-water shells on the sand formations between the trap-beds.”

The sportsman must not expect to see in Iceland that “abundance of game,” promised by old and even by writers of the last decade; he may content himself with No. 5 shot—No. 1, or swan shot, being now useless. Fur is hardly to be had; no foreigner has yet brought down a reindeer; and the seals belong to the owner of the shore. The people kill Reynard with “fox-shot”—but vulpecide will scarcely commend itself to the Englishman. Feather is nearly as rare. Eider ducks are defended by law, and the author, after visiting the most likely places, can count the ptarmigan flushed; they are generally “potted” sitting in the snow when they approach the farms. Only four whoopers showed themselves dulcibus in stagnis; these singing swans, whose music is mentioned by every winter-traveller, are becoming strangers as in the Orkneys and Shetlands. The great auk is gone—for ever gone; all his haunts have lately been ransacked in vain. Eight or nine years ago the lakes and ponds swarmed with duck; now their places know them no more. Sandpipers, common and purple; malingering golden plover,[213] oyster-catchers, curlew, and whimbrel, and the characteristic whimbrel (Numenius phæopus, Icel. Spói), all of them detestable eating, with an occasional snippet or snipe, especially the Hrossa-gaukr[214] (“horse-snipe,” Gallinago media), so called from its neighing cry, and, perhaps, from the popular idea of its throwing somersaults in the air, can hardly be called inducements—except to a Cockney gun. The one sufficient reason for this disappearance of birds is the systematic robbery of their nests; an ever-increasing population with decreasing means must eat up everything eatable.

§ 2. Notes on the Flora.

The vegetation of Iceland, like Greenland, is that of Scandinavia, which Dr Hooker has shown to be one of the oldest on the globe. The popularly adopted computation gives 407 species of Phanerogams, of which one-eighth are grain-bearing; one-eighth leguminous; one-ninth cyperaceæ; one-seventeenth composite, and about one-eighteenth crucifers.

That the present poverty of bread-stuffs is comparatively modern, may be proved by such names as Akrey, Akureyri, Akranes, Akra-hverar, and a host of others, all derived from Akr, a corn-field; the Aker of Lappland (ἀγρός, ager, acker, acre). We have also the distinct testimony of ancient literature. The Landnámabók (p. 15) mentions the Arðr[215] (aratrum) and ploughing with cattle. The Njála says, “Bleikir akrar en slegin tún”—the corn-fields are bleached (to harvest) and the tún is mown. Though the island is now placed north of the barley-limit, crops of barley and rye have apparently been grown.

Forbes and other writers attempt to explain away the significance of “akr,” by suggesting that the indigenous wild oat might have been cultivated in former days, and hence the traces of tilled and furrowed fields which have been allowed to relapse into the savage state. This grain of many names (Avena arenaria, Elymus arenarius, Granum spicatum, secalinum maritimum spicâ longiooe, and arundo foliorum lateribus convolutis acumine pungente) is popularly called Melr;[216] and old authors divide the “sea-lyme grass” of Iceland into two species—(1.) Avena arenaria, and (2.) Avena foliorum lateribus convolutis. The opinion is untenable for two reasons. Firstly, the cereal is a local growth, nourishing chiefly in the Skaptarfells Sýsla and in the Mýrdals and Skeiðarár Sandur; it exists in the north-east of the island; but it does not yield food. Secondly, transplantation has often been tried during the last few years, for instance, to the Borgarfjörð, and other highly favourable spots, with one effect—like Kangaroo grass in Australia, the grain refused to ripen. Finally, we may observe, Ólafsson and Pállsson on their journey through Iceland, nearly a century ago, mention wheat growing in the southern districts.

The cause of the change, sometimes attributed to oscillations of temperature, is simply disforesting, which has promoted the growth of bog and heath now covering half the island, which allows storm-winds to sweep unopposed over the surface, and which, since the Saga times, has necessarily rendered the cold less endurable to cereals. A number of local names, beginning with Reynir, the sorb apple (Sorbus edulis),[217] proves that groves of the wild fruit-tree, whose pomaceous berries, rich in malic acid, were munched by the outlaw, once flourished where there is now not a trace of them. The Landnámabók (chap, i., p. 7) expressly declares that Iceland was wooded from the sea to the mountains, or inner plateau (var thá skógr milom fjalls og fjöru); and tells us how, as in Madeira Island, the woods were destroyed by fire. Vain attempts have been made to remedy an evil which is now all but irreparable; without nurseries and walls, the young plants are always wind-wrung. As in the Orkneys and Shetlands, the only trees now growing wild are rowans; birches (Betula alba, nana, and fruticosa), and ground-juniper (J. communis, Icel. Einir); the dwarf red, grey, and green-grey willows (Salix Lapponum, etc., Icel. Grá-Víðir), of which sixteen species have been collected, hardly ever exceed the size of sage, which, indeed, the Selja (S. caprea) greatly resembles. The twiggy birch-thickets seldom surpass six feet in height, the northern part of Iceland being the extreme limit of the growth; and a tree whose topmost leaves rise fifteen feet excites general admiration. The verdant patches labelled Skógr (forest), and scattered in the map, especially about the Lagarfljót, the Thjórsá, and the Hvítá, denote this scrub. Yet the bogs supply tree stumps a foot and more in diameter.

The wild flora of Iceland is small and delicate, with bright bloom, the heaths being especially admired; and the traveller is at first surprised to find no difference in the vegetation of the uplands and the lowlands.

Baring-Gould (Appendix C.) gives of Dicotyledons, Ranunculaceæ (14 species), Papaveraceæ (2), Cruciferæ (22), Violaceæ (4), Drosereæ (2), Polygalaceæ (1), Caryophyllaceæ (25), Linaceæ (1), Hypericaceæ (1), Geraniaceæ (3), Leguminosæ (8), Rosaceæ (20),[218] Pomeæ (2), Onagraceæ (9), Haloragaceæ (2), Portulacaceæ (1), Crassulaceæ (17), Saxifragaceæ (19), Umbelliferæ (7), Araliaceæ (1), Cornaceæ (1), Rubiaceæ (10), Valerianaceæ (1), Dipsacaceæ (2), Compositæ (26), Campanulaceæ (2), Vacciniaceæ (4), Ericaceæ (7), Pyrolaceæ (3), Gentianaceæ (15), Polemoniaceæ (1), Boraginaceæ (6), Scrophulariaceæ (18), Labiatæ (8), Lentibulariaceæ (2), Primulaceæ (3), Plumbaginiæ (2), Plantaginaceæ (6), Chenopodiaceæ (3), Sceleranthaceæ (1), Polygonaceæ (13), Empetraceæ (1), Callithrichaceæ (2), Ceratophyllaceæ (1), Urticeæ (2), Betulaceæ (3), Salicaceæ (17), and Coniferæ, only one J. Communis.

The Monocotyledons are Orchidaceæ (13), Trilliaceæ (1), Liliaceæ (1), Melanthaceæ (3), Juncaceæ (11), Juncaginaceæ (2), Typhaceæ (1), Naidaceæ (7), Cyperaceæ (47), and Gramineæ (50). The Acotyledons are Polypodiaceæ (13), Ophioglossaceæ (2), Lycopodiaceæ (8), and Equisetaceæ (6).

The traveller refers for details to his own pages, to Hooker’s Journal (1813), to Zoega’s “Flora Islandica,” to Preyer and Zirkel’s “Reise nach Island,” to Dr W. L. Lindsay’s “Flora of Iceland” (Edinburgh New Philosophical Journal, July 1861), and to Dr Hjaltalín’s “Grasafræði” (Handbook of Icelandic Botany, 8vo, 1830).

Building-wood is wholly imported. Fuel, here used only for the kitchen, is supplied by the Argul of the Tartar, “chips” (fimo bubulo pro lignis utuntur); by peat, which varies in depth from two to twenty-seven yards; and by driftwood, which adds considerable value to the shores receiving it. There are two chief deposits, the northern supplied by Septentrional Europe, and the western by the New World; the latter has of late years so much diminished that the islanders expect soon to see it cease.

Concerning the origin of that miocene growth, Surtar-brand,[219] or Iceland lignite, there are two conflicting opinions. Older writers believe it to be a local production, a growth like that which created the coal of the carboniferous period. The more modern support the theory that it is accumulated driftwood, semi-fossilised like Zanzibar copal, by heat and pressure. The question is still open to new light; but as fossil leaves of plants were brought from Disco by Sir Edward Belcher’s Expedition; as we have convincing proofs that those latitudes were once inhabited by forests presenting fifty to sixty species of arborescent trees, elm, oak, pine, maple, and plane; and, what is more remarkable, by apparently evergreen trees and quasi-tropical flora, showing that these regions must have had perennial light; we must incline to the old opinion. Early in this century, the Danish Government promised rewards to “persons who shall find out easier methods of breaking and using Surtar-brand from the rocks” (Hooker), but we do not hear that any one has deserved such generosity.

The greatest deposits of Swart-brand are on the north-western Fjörðs, where it has been mined to a small extent, and whence specimens have been sent to England. It is mostly found bedded in layers three or four inches thick, alternating with trap. The surface is usually black and shiny, flaking, and otherwise behaving like lignite; burning with a weak flame and a sour smell like wet wood. The smiths formerly preferred it to sea-coal, “because it did not waste the iron;” when powdered, it preserved clothes from the moth, and, being an antiseptic, it was used internally against colics. The author was shown a specimen of true pitch-coal from the Hvítá valley; it is mentioned by Mackenzie (p. 368), who describes it as highly combustible, but not existing in large quantities. This source of wealth, as well as Iceland spar, Iceland moss, cryolite, and especially the sulphur fields, will be noticed in future pages; further details about the interesting Surtar-brand will also be given in the Journal.

§ 3. Agriculture.

At present the grass lands are the wealth of the island, as they pasture the flocks and herds, which form the chief means of subsistence, and the most important articles of industry and commerce. The meadows are grassed over by nature, not ploughed nor harrowed, such implements being rarely used. Nor are they seeded, although Dillon (p. 125) speaks of the weedy grass crop being sown in May, growing about June in weedy pastures where, shortly before, no vegetation had been, and being fit for mowing in later August, when the snow is off the hills,[220] and when garden-stuff is ripe. The grass is soft and thick, much like our red-top, and about six inches high; only in rare places the ponies wade up to their knees in through the rich meads. The hay is carefully “sheared,” and is exceedingly sweet. White clover (Trifolium repens, Icel. Smári) flourishes; and on the streams it is found growing spontaneously with carraway (Carum carui); the red species wants, they say, the fructifying insect.

Mackenzie, and other old travellers, assure us that the island requires nothing but active and intelligent men, able to combat the prejudices and to stimulate the exertions of the peasantry. The latter complain of the neglect of the Danish Government, and call upon Hercules, but will not help themselves. It is conceded that draining, ploughing, and manuring would improve the soil. But the question still remains, Is the short summer sufficient to ripen grain? Late experiments with seed-corn have proved failures, one quarter of a barrel yielded only half a barrel; this suggests that in the older day seed was imported. Moreover, the taxes and the tenure of land militate against improvement; whilst the excessive labour and expense required for the first steps, such as levelling the soil, place the preliminary operations beyond the reach of most Bændr. Governor Thodal (1772) sowed barley, which grew very briskly: a short time before it was to be reaped, a violent storm scattered the grains from the ears (U. v. Troil, p. 47). Governor Finsen tried oats in his compound, but they stubbornly refused to ripen. Many a summer will pass before an island poet will again sing the “Georgics of Iceland,” and before the island can bear the motto, “Cruce et Aratro.”

At the close of the eighteenth century the Crown of Denmark established, in the northern district of the Húnavatn, model farms, chiefly directed by foreigners. The grains experimented upon were mostly oats, barley, and rye, autumnal and vernal (Secale cereale, hybernum et æstivum). When protected by walls, the rye almost ripened, but the ears were seldom fecund. Still remain for trial various German ryes (Johanniskorn or Studentenkorn); spelt (Triticum spelta); the buckwheat of Tartary (Polygonum Tataricum); the Triticum monococum, and sundry kinds of barley, the square autumnal (Hordeum vulgare hybernum); the square vernal, so useful to middle Europe (H. v. æstivum); and, above all, the Lapland barley, which Linnæus says may be planted at the end of May, and reaped on July 28. Abyssinia and the Western Hemisphere will supply the island with edible meadow-grasses and millet-grasses, Poas, and Festucæ (Ovina and others),[221] and especially with the Quinoa (Chenopodium quinoa) of the Peruvian Andes, which ripens where no other corn grows. And let us hope that the indigenous cereals have not yet had a fair chance.

In the last century Hr Haldorsen introduced the potato, which has now extended over the island. Dillon calls it a pigmy, and compares it with a tennis ball; but it has improved since his day. Turnips would flourish, especially upon the warmer coasts, where the sub-soil is palagonitic sand, and where manure of seaweed abounds. Radishes, as now cultivated, are hard, coarse, and woody: spinach is a success, and much might be done to fatten the indigenous sorrel. The Stranda Sýsla to the north-west has attempted with various fortunes, sundry kinds of caules; the broccoli, which grows quickly; the turnip-cabbage (Brassica oleracea gangloides), eaten in summer; the curled cole-wort (B. o. sabellica), kept for winter use; the red cabbage, strong to resist cold; the large growing white variety (B. o. capitata alba), and the cauliflower, which hardly exceeds the size of a man’s fist—it is found, however, that the two latter refuse to seed. The other pottage-plants are lettuces, common in gardens; beetroot, red and yellow; carrots; onions, garlic, and shalots (Al. asculonicum); chervil (Scandix cerefolium); black mustard, which, considering the climate, attains unusual dimensions; water cress; radishes; horse radish (Raphanus niger); and parsley, the latter taking six to seven weeks before it rises above ground. In 1865, there were about 7000 garden plots.

The tenure of land is either by lease from the Crown and the Church, or held in fee simple; the latter is the old Óðal,[222] preserved in modern Norway. Since ancient times, there has been a fourfold division of estates: (1.) King’s land, bearing a succession duty of 1 per cent., and assigned to a family as long as it pays its rent; (2.) Church land; (3.) Freehold, held by contributing land-tax; and (4.) Land charitably bequeathed to the poor. Crown property may be granted either by the Sýslumaðr, whose income is often eked out by a temporary tenure gratis; or by the Umboðsmenn,[223] of whom there is generally one for every two Sýslas. They are also paid by grants of Government farms; they receive a percentage upon those they lease, and they report to the Land-fógeti (treasurer). Church property is under the Amtmaðr, controlled by the bishop, but, as a rule, it is sub-leased by the parish priest in whose living it is. A large proportion of farms is thus held. The poor lands are let by the rector and the Hreppstjórar, superintended by the Sýslumenn. The tenant, besides agreeing to support one or more paupers, pays ground-rent for all buildings upon the farm, and he can underlet it in parts, the sub-tenant paying, perhaps, a barrel of rye per annum.

Mackenzie compares the tenure of land leased to the farmer with the Scotch “steel-bow;” the rent is paid in two ways:

1. Landskuld, lease-money or rent owed by the tenant to the Crown, the Church, or the landowner. It is taken in specie or in kind, at the rate of $2 to $3 per $100. The latter is supposed to be fixed by ancient valuation; practically, it is very unsettled; and in Iceland, as elsewhere, the landlord will strive to obtain the terms most favourable to himself.

2. Lausa-fè, the rent on movable property, especially kine and sheep, opposed to land, or even land with its cattle. It is generally levied in butter, one of the articles of currency. Each tenant is bound to take over from his predecessor the permanent stock on certain conditions, and to leave the same number when he quits.

Property cannot be entailed. The estates of those dying intestate are distributed amongst the children; formerly, whole shares fell to sons, half shares to daughters—all now share equally. This process justifies De Tocqueville, who, expressing his surprise that ancient and modern publicists had paid so little attention to succession laws, regarded them as the most important of political institutions.

Dufferin seems to think (pp. 141, 142) that almost perpetual leases are the rule in Iceland: the contrary is the case; and the small proportion of freehold is a crying evil. Many farms are let to tenants at will from year to year, with six months’ notice: evictions are allowed by law for neglect or misconduct, easily proved by the rich against the poor; and the ejected farmer’s only remedy is to disprove the charges by a survey of the Hreppstjórar, and of two respectable neighbours. The instability of landed tenure, the undefined state of the tenant-right, and the certainty of rents being raised by the parson or the Umboth-superintendent, if profits increase, for instance if minerals be discovered, are potent obstacles to regular and energetic improvement. The remedy evidently lies in the sale of Crown property, and in the secularisation of Church lands, with due compensation to the actual holders.

The farms are all named, mostly from natural features. There are, however, not a few which have borrowed from the outer world, for instance a Hamburg in the Fljótsdalr: even “Jerusalem” is not unknown—the result of Crusading days. The best are on the north side of the island; yet the three most generally cited as models are Viðey off the west coast, and Hólmar and Möðrudalr, to the east. The south-western (not the southern) shore supports a fishing rather than a pastoral or agricultural population. The non-maritime people live in scattered homesteads, which nowhere form the humblest village: this is the unit of the constitutional machinery of Iceland, as the township was amongst the Anglo-Saxons. The only settlements are the trading-places on the sea-shore.

Drainage and fencing are not wholly neglected. In 1856 there were 40,202 fathoms of ditching, and 44,671 fathoms of railing, these improvements being all modern work. Each farm has, besides the “tún,” a bit of lowland upon which grass is grown, and a large extent of barren hill and moorland, where the sheep graze during the fine season; this is always assumed to belong to the property. Hence the Shetland phrase, “fra the heist off the hill to the lawest off the ebbe” (milli fjalls og fjöru). The “Bær” is divided from its neighbours by Vörður (“warders”), or landmarks, natural and artificial; the latter are stone heaps, the former some marked limit, as a hill, a rock, or a stream. The boundaries are a perpetual cause of dispute, and some of the most complicated lawsuits have thus arisen. Not a few of the wilder peasantry live in a chronic state of land-feud; they “make it up” over their cups, and they return to the natural belligerent condition when sober.

The tenants of an Iceland farm usually number six classes.

1. Bonders (Bændr),[224] the Shetland Boonds, franklins, farmers, or yeomen; the “upper ten.”

2. Húsmenn, or tómthúsmenn, who have houses upon the farm, but are not allowed pasturage or haymaking. They have been confounded by travellers with—

3. Kaupamenn, labourers working for hire.

4. Hjáleigumenn (crofters), those who occupy the hjáleiga, or a small farm, an appendage to the larger establishments.

5. Servants (Icel. Vinnumenn).

6. Paupers (Icel. Ómagar or Niðursetningr).

Much harm is done by the multitude of lazy loons that gathers round the farmer, a practice dating from ancient days, all striving to live upon the best of the land, with the least amount of work.

Thus we see that “agriculture,” being absolutely confined to haymaking, is a mere misnomer in Iceland, nearly three-quarters of whose population is pastoral, though not nomad. The wealth of the country consists of sheep, horses, and black cattle; goats are spoken of in the north, but the author did not see a single head.

Since the first third of the nineteenth century, Iceland has witnessed a gradual and regular increase of population, and a proportionate decrease of live stock.[225] The following are the numbers of animals given by Mackenzie for 1804:

In 1834-35, according to Mr John Barrow, jun., repeated in 1854 by Mr Pliny Miles, the total of sheep, the chief staple of the land, was 500,000. M. Eugène Robert gives 617,401 for 1845. But in 1855 appeared the disease (scabies) which, according to the “Oxonian” (p. 389), in two years killed off 200,000 head: in many parts of the island it still rages.

In 1863 Paijkull assigned 350,000 sheep and 22,000 head of black cattle to 68,000 souls. In 1871 the official numbers are:

or a falling off of 134,000, where the population has gained since 1834-35 upwards of 13,700.

The next source of profit in Iceland is breeding black cattle. According to the same traveller, the total in 1834 was 36,000 to 40,000 head. The official tables for 1871 give:

or a falling off of nearly half, when the population has increased about one-fifth.

The following table shows the comparative numbers:

Thus, not including 1871, the number of horses since 1855 has decreased upwards of 25 per cent., horned cattle 23 per cent., and sheep a little more than 31 per cent.

Black cattle, according to Mackenzie, resemble the largest Highland breed; the author thought them far more like our short-horns in general, and especially Alderneys. Dillon makes them generally hornless,[226] and the breed has remained unchanged. The cows yield an abundance of milk, sometimes ten to twelve quarts a day. There has been no disease amongst the “slaughter-creatures,” as Icelanders call black cattle, but the gold of California and Australia has affected even Ultima Thule. In 1830-40 the price of a cow, $4, had increased to $28 in 1870; in 1872 it had risen to $50-$80, and the animal often cost $100 to $120 in rearing. Twenty years ago the pound of beef fetched eight to ten skillings (farthings); now it averages one mark (fourpence) to one mark three skillings. Few householders own more than eight head of cattle, and probably half that number would be a high average. The community lives chiefly upon milk and fish; hence the sale of a cow is to the children the death of a friend, causing tears and lamentations.

The large but scattered flocks of sheep are the chief support of the islandry. The peasants pay rent and debts in June and July by the wool which is then washed and ready for sale; and in September and October by wether-mutton smoked and cured; by grease and tallow, and by sheep-skins and lamb-skins with the coat on. They reserve the butter and cheese mostly for bargains and for household use. In 1770 the wether sold for $1; in 1810 it had risen to $2, and even $5, and in 1872 to $9. Besides supplying food, the animals yield material for local industries—coarse cloth, clothes, frocks and jackets, mittens, stockings and socks, made by the women, and used or exported. The fleece, which may average two to four pounds,[227] is not sheared, but “roo’d,” or plucked when loose, with little pain to the wearer. Though coarse it is long, while under the hard outer coat (Icel. Tog or Thel) there is a fine soft tog, not a little resembling the “Pashm” of Persia, Afghanistan, and Northern India. The price varies considerably, the usual limits being tenpence to a shilling. Of course it depends greatly upon the export, which in some years has reached 1,750,000 lbs.; in 1868 about 625,000 lbs. were shipped to England. The “scraggy,” long-legged animal suggests, on the whole, the old Scotch breed. Intermixture of merino and other blood has been partially tried, but it is a disputed point whether improved form and quality of wool have or have not brought increased liability to disease. The surest way to improve the island-sheep is to feed it better, but the peasant is too lazy to shear the hills for hay not absolutely necessary.

The exportation of live stock unaccompanied by proportional emigration may end in a calamity. Fatal famines deform the island annals, and in any year another may result from an inclement summer, producing scarcity of grass. It would be justifiable to part with necessaries if the profits were laid out upon improvements; but this is far from being the case. The peasant sells his cattle and sheep to buy for himself vile tobacco; “bogus” cognac; brennivín or kornschnaps, and perhaps even “port” and “sherry;” and for his wife chignon and crinolines, silks and calicoes, instead of the homely but lasting frieze cloth. His grandfather infused Iceland moss; he must drink coffee, while raisins or cassonade are replaced by candied or loaf sugar. Figs boiled with rice and milk were then offered to guests, and angelica root was a boccon ghiotto. And so with other matters. The Althing has attempted to curb the crying evil of ever increasing drunkenness, the worst disease of the island because the most general, by a tax which will be described under the head of cesses; and sensible men would see it increased.

During the last forty years the number of horses has gradually fallen to half; in 1871 the total was only 3164 over the 26,324 which Mackenzie gave for A.D. 1804. In 1834, according to John Barrow, jun., a careful observer, though apparently his figures do not come from official sources, the census varied from 50,000 to 60,000; and the same is given for 1835 by Mr Pliny Miles (1854), who may have copied his predecessor. In 1845 the census numbered 34,584. In 1862 the late Professor Paijkull counted 37,000, or 0·5 per head of population; during that year 828 (?) were exported to Scotland viâ Belgium. The last census, for June 6, 1871, shows:

The following figures denote only the exportation from the capital; though many animals are bought in other parts of the island, they are usually driven to Reykjavik, and the people complain that the west, where horse-flesh is scarcest, sends out the most. Those embarked at the chief port, sometimes in troops of 400, were either two-year olds or upwards of ten-year old, and many appeared to the author fit only for the knacker’s yard.

For three years Dr Hjaltalín advised the Althing to impose a heavy tax on exported horses, and to expend the income upon road-making: the plan was too sensible to suit the majority. The theorists, who are not a few in Iceland and Denmark, object to unfree trade, and look only at present profits—when will nations learn that to imitate one another often produces not a copy but a caricature? Upon the subject of horse-flesh, further details will be found in the Journal.

To resume: Mr Consul Crowe (Report, 1870-71) gives the following value-tables of farm-produce:

Of which the annual exported value is—

§ 4. Fisheries.

Faber mentions forty-five species of fish, seven of them being inhabitants of fresh waters; but the list is evidently incomplete. Of Cetaceæ alone the Iceland seas produce thirteen varieties: we shall visit the headquarters of whale-catching on the eastern coast. The Hákall, or edible shark, is also an animal of importance far surpassing the seal. The halibut (Spraka) is rare in the south, but it is found in abundance in the north-west; the sole is wanting, and the herring (Síld) is unaccountably absent, except in the north and east; the latter sometimes enters the bays and gives a little work about Seyðisfjörð and Akureyri, but it does not pay.[230] Mackerel, lobsters and oysters, shrimps and prawns, are unknown; there are crabs which contain little meat, and a variety of limpets (Patella), and mussels (Mytilus edulis), eaten and used for bait. The principal fish upon the coast are the true cod (Gades morrhua); the ling (Lota morrhua), with the long dorsal fin; the hake (G. merlucius); the haddock (G. æglefinnus); the coal-fish (Icel. Isa; G. carbonarius); the skate (Raia; Icel. Skata), and the stinging-ray (R. trygon; Icel. Graðskata or Tindabikkja). The rivers teem with salmon (S. salar); the lakes and ponds with trout (Silungr) and char (Salmo Alpinus).[231]

Ichthyological study is everywhere in its infancy, and awaits its full development, when the greatly increased density of earth’s population will enhance the difficulty of supplying it with a sufficiency of food. The late Professor Agassiz ably vindicated the superiority of fish-diet for brain-workers, as well as for the poor classes of society,—it abounds in phosphorus and “ohne Phosphor keine Gedanken.” The noble fisheries of Iceland are still in the most primitive style of development; the appliances are of the poorest, and the people display neither energy nor intelligence, which must be aroused by an impulse from without. The returns, as we shall see, are considerable, but they might be indefinitely augmented if modern improvements and commercial enterprise were enlisted to make the best of this generous source of wealth.

For the ocean is emphatically the poor man’s larder. With equal capital and labour it is made far more productive than the earth, and the ratio is ever increasing in its favour. Whilst land-animals give birth to one or two young at a time, fish produce their millions, and the bulk far exceeds anything that walks the earth. Whilst, at most, one-eighth of Iceland is capable of yielding food in any appreciable quantities, the circumpolar seas swarm with profuse life, tier upon tier extending thousands of feet deep. “In hot latitudes the deep-sea temperature diminishes till the mercury stands at 40° (F.); in the parallel of 70° the ocean, many degrees warmer than the land-surface, is of the same temperature at all depths.”[232] And as the voyager advances toward the poles, the diffusion of animal life increases prodigiously. The waters around Iceland, as about Greenland, produce endless forage for their tenants, such as the squids (Sepiadæ), and the Clio Borealis, the favourite pasture of the whale; whilst fine and nutritious grasses occupying the shore and the shallows yield pasture for the seals.[233] The rivers rolling glacier-water, and the white streams tinged by detritus, are, it is true, barren; but they bear down the alluvium of cultivated lands, and the drainage serves to augment the supply of food.

The abundant sea-harvests, especially of cod, soon attracted the attention of foreign nations; and as early as A.D. 1412, thirty European ships or crafts frequented the coasts of Iceland. Until 1872, the maritime territorial limits of four Danish, or nearly twenty English, miles, laid down by the law of 1787, were preserved with all its wholesome provisions, pains, and penalties. The new retains the old ordinance in case of necessity, but annuls certain objectionable parts; for instance, it allows the necessary landing and warehousing of fishermen’s stores on the payment of a moderate and conditional charge to the local poor-box.

It has been shown that the fisheries of Iceland are worked by 3500 boats, manned by upwards of 5000 souls, only one-tenth of those employed upon the farms. But this would give a false idea of the important industry which, depending upon the peculiar character of the people, has determined more than anything else the modes and the inspiration of national life. Especially between February and May, the “fishing peasants” flock to the shore; the seaboard farms and factories become populous, and the whole energy and interests of the island are turned to its characteristic occupation. Off the south-western county there is perennial fishery—salmon in spring, and cod nearly all the year.[234]